To Hold, Never to Have
by Loudmouth Lamb
Summary: Madge's best friends, Peeta and Delly, are drawn for the 74th Hunger Games. Lost and alone, she stumbles into an unexpected friendship, and something much more, with none other than Gale Hawthorne. AU. MINI STORY. "If none of this ever happened, would you have even looked twice at me?" said Gale. "I don't know," admitted Madge. After everything, he deserved the truth at least.


_Safe for another year,_ thought Gale. His brothers were safe. Katniss and Prim, his friends, all safe. The morning mist had lifted and taken the gloom with it. He whistled as they walked through town, swinging the basket of strawberries, until Katniss grabbed his arm to keep it still.

"You're spilling them," she said. Gale glanced back at the trail of strawberries behind them. Oh well, the mayor's daughter could do without them. She had more than enough to eat.

The street was quiet. They passed Mellark's bakery. It was closed, lights out, blinds drawn, no smoke hurling from the three chimneys. Katniss quickened her pace until the bakery was a few blocks behind them. She'd had a crush on Peeta Mellark since she was eleven. She would probably die before she admitted it, but Gale knew. He stopped whistling.

"Maybe he'll win."

Katniss kept walking, eyes fixed straight ahead.

"You never know," said Gale. Only he did know. Peeta Mellark didn't stand a chance. Neither did Delly Cartwright. No one from District 12 ever came home. The odds were against them from the start.

Katniss refused to talk about it. She sped up again. Gale fell behind. He hated when she shut him out. He hated not knowing what to say to her. The world wasn't fair, it just was, and there was no comfort in that sentiment.

By the time he caught up to Katniss, she'd already knocked on the mayor's back door. Madge usually appeared after a few seconds. A minute passed, then another. Gale knocked a second time. He was about to knock a third, but Katniss slapped down his hand.

"Don't be an ass," she hissed. "Not today."

She turned back to the door at the sound of footsteps. The bolt slid free. "Sorry," said Madge, breathless, inching open the door just wide enough to slip outside. She never let them catch more than a glimpse of the inside. Her face was red and splotchy, eyelids swollen, and her frock wet with tears. Gale looked away as he thrust the basket of strawberries at her. He heard the jangle of metal as she counted out coins from the leather pouch tied to her belt.

"They're a gift," said Katniss.

Gale shot her a look. _Oh really?_ he thought, raising his brows. They'd spent two hours cutting through thorns to get to those strawberries. He was slashed and bleeding from a million little cuts. If he'd known he was working for free, he wouldn't have bothered.

"No, I can't," said Madge, stumbling over her words. "You don't have to. It's not-"

"Just take them," said Gale, looking at the tear spatters on the front of her dress. She could have the strawberries for free, one small taste of happiness, just today. Still unable to meet her bloodshot eyes, he added in a softer voice, "Too bad about your friends."

Madge's hand fluttered over her heart like a broken wing. She backed into the door, reached for the handle, fresh tears blooming in the blue.

"Thank you," she said, strained. The vein in her temple pulsed wildly. She desperately wanted to go.

"See you next week," said Katniss. Madge nodded, then disappeared into her fortress. Katniss immediately turned and began walking back down the path, but Gale lingered on the doorstep. He tried to peer through the white curtains. No light shone through. He put his ear to the door and listened. He could hear Madge crying, just barely, through the wood.

Not everyone was safe, not her friends, and not the 22 other children who'd been reaped. Gale didn't want to think about them. He began whistling again, letting Katniss keep a few feet ahead of him as they made their way home. His family was waiting for him and so was her's.

But Gale couldn't forget the sound of Madge Undersee sobbing. That night, as he lay sandwiched in bed between his brothers, he thought how easily it could've been him on the other side of the door. He couldn't sleep. In the morning, he couldn't eat. He told his mother he was going to the woods. Instead he walked back into town, past the closed bakery and the Mellark's eerily quiet house. For once, Mrs. Mellark wasn't screaming at her husband or sons. He passed the Cartwright's and thought he saw movement in an upstairs window. There was nothing there when he looked again.

He was almost to the mayor's house when he changed his mind, realizing he didn't have clue in hell what he was doing, or why he was here. Gale turned abruptly. Back past the Cartwright's, and the Mellark's, and the bakery. He stopped at the shop front window. There were no cakes on display. He'd walked by here just a few weeks ago, the day before school started, on his way to pick up Posy's new shoes. He'd seen Madge and her friends through this very window, laughing, their faces smudged with flour. They had been a trio for as long as Gale could remember, always together, whispering, passing notes, speaking to no one but each other.

Undersee was the lucky one. She was safe. She was alone.

Gale turned around again. He made it to the mayor's house. He knocked on the backdoor and he waited. Again it took her longer than usual to arrive, but she came like he knew she would. Her bloodshot eyes widened in surprise. She leaned against the doorframe, pale and dizzy. Obviously she hadn't slept either. Her face was so puffy now that he suspected she'd cried all night instead.

"Do you want to come over for dinner?" he blurted.

Madge blinked at him. She didn't say anything for a long time, so he repeated the question, slower. She blinked a few more times, and then, unexpectedly, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't want your pity, Hawthorne," she said, acid dripping from her tongue.

Gale crossed his arms. _Fine_ , he thought, _I tried._ But he didn't leave. He felt rooted to her doorstep. "It's not pity," he said.

"No?" she said, mirroring him, crossing her arms too. Gale shook his head. "Then what is it? Do you like me?"

She was messing with him. He knew that and he laughed, shaking his head even harder. She turned to go inside. "Wait," he said. She looked over her shoulder, but kept her back to him. "Just come to dinner. You owe me for the strawberries."

"Thought they were a gift," said Madge.

"Katniss' idea, not mine."

"I figured." She looked ahead. Her fingers squeezed the handle. After a minute, she sighed. "Fine, I'll come," and then she was gone again, the door slamming in his face.

* * *

Madge started eating dinner with the Hawthorne's once a week, then twice a week, and within in a month she was spending every night at their house. It was strange, how quickly she found her place among them, people she'd hardly ever spoken to, but she didn't question her new relationship with the Hawthorne family. She needed them. She suspected they knew that. Everyone else in District 12 shied away from her. They gave her pitying glances from afar. Her teachers never called on her in class anymore. They seemed to think the kindest thing they could do was simply ignore her existence altogether.

The Hawthornes were different from everyone else. They treated her like everything was normal, even when she wasn't acting normal, even when she broke down into tears at the dinner table. "I know," said Rory, patting her on the back. "Gale's cooking makes me cry, too." Soon she was in tears, laughing, as Gale and Rory chased each other around the table.

Vick, Posy, and Rory were the siblings she'd never had and never known she wanted, because she'd always had her two best friends until now. Mrs. Hawthorne's hugs were warm and she always smelled of laundry soap. Madge couldn't remember what her own mother's hugs had been like. She'd died three years ago and Mr. Undersee had buried himself in his work ever since. He rarely left his office in the Justice Building. He didn't notice she was practically living with the Hawthornes.

And Gale…

Madge didn't know how to explain him, not even to herself. She'd always assumed he hated her, not personally, but as a symbol of everything he didn't have. He had been delivering strawberries to her back door for years and, in all that time, they'd never had a real conversation. Just like with the rest of his family, though, she found it impossibly easy to talk to him. He still didn't say much. Mostly he listened as she babbled. Sometimes neither of them spoke a word for hours. They just sat in the meadow, and if she cried, he pretended not to notice until it was time to go home. Then he wiped her eyes with the clean inside of his sleeve, helped her up, and said, "Come on, Undersee, time to keep moving."

She refused to watch the games. The Hawthornes didn't talk about it when she was around, but she caught them exchanging glances behind her back. They knew what was going on, the whole country knew, everyone except for her.

One day, she and Gale were in the meadow, as usual, both of them lying on their backs, staring up into the frightfully vast sky. Madge suddenly felt like she was falling. Her stomach clenched. She quickly looked to Gale instead. Watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed steadied her. She felt his arm pressed against her's. He was so solid, so _there_.

"Only tell me when they die," she said. "Not how. I don't want the details. I just need to know when-"

"If," said Gale, correcting her, turning his head to face her. "If they die."

"One of them has to," said Madge. There was a lump in her throat. Her words didn't sound like her own. Gale's hand covered her's. His palm was warm and calloused. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't, not this time. Maybe she'd never cry again. Maybe everyone was born with only a certain allotment of tears to shed.

"Madge," he said, pressing her hand against the earth with his, keeping her _there_ while the sky tried to suck her up into an endless blue oblivion. "I'm sorry."

So many people had muttered those same words to her. She didn't believe any of them truly meant it. They were all glad to have been spared another year. Madge knew better than to think that he wasn't just as relieved that his loved ones were safe, but there was something different about the way he said it, _I'm sorry_. She saw in those Seam gray eyes that he didn't think either Peeta or Delly would ever come home. She could see he thought them both good as dead already.

The truth, unveiled, was comforting. Gale didn't lie, he didn't pretend, or treat her like a wisp of smoke that might dissipate with the wrong look, the wrong words. She wanted to be brave like him. Nothing was okay, her friends were lost, but she wasn't entirely alone. This was her life now, staring at the sky with Gale, braiding Posy's hair, helping Vick with his homework, and it wasn't the worst life a person could have.

* * *

Gale had sent Rory to watch the Games elsewhere. "You shouldn't do that," Madge told him. She hadn't said much else all afternoon. For awhile, he tried to strike up a conversation about something, anything, but she just nodded. She wasn't listening, so for awhile longer he watched her snap peas from their shells, until he couldn't take it. He went outside to skin a few squirrels for supper. Madge wouldn't eat if she saw what he was doing. He'd learned a a couple weeks ago that she wasn't a big fan of seeing her dinner's cute, furry face before she ate it.

After the squirrels were cleaned, he rinsed the blood from his hands at the pump. By the time he returned to the house, Madge was still shelling peas. She'd brought two burlap sacks from her own garden. The Hawthornes had been eating much better lately, ever since she started hanging around. She couldn't take without giving something back, even though none of them had asked her for a thing.

"Spill the beans," said Gale, knocking a few empty shells from the table to the floor. He stood beside her, his arm dangling loose by her shoulder.

"Then who will pick them up?" she said. She tried to smile. He watched her lips spasm and then droop.

"Me," said Gale, serious now. He slid the bucket of unshelled peas across the table, away from her, just as she was reaching for another. Her fist closed over air. Madge slumped into the chair. She let her head hang over the back to look at him and her loose curls cascaded down her back.

"Are they dead?" she finally said.

"No," said Gale. "I'd have told you. I promised, remember?"

Madge nodded. She straightened her neck and turned her gaze to the scarred table. For a few minutes, the house was quiet again. She picked at a loose splinter with her pinky nail. Gale waited. Whatever she was really thinking, she'd come out with it eventually, if he was patient. He stayed right where he was, waiting.

"You shouldn't have made Rory leave," she said again. "It's his home."

"He doesn't mind," said Gale, shrugging. And so what if Rory did mind? He'd get over it and he certainly wasn't mad at her.

"Do you think I'm a coward?" said Madge, looking up at him again suddenly, almost pleadingly. "For not watching."

"No."

Madge's eyes dropped to the table. "You do," she muttered. Gale knelt beside her. He tried to make her look at him again, but she wouldn't.

"I don't," he said firmly. "What's the point in watching? You can't do anything, Madge."

"I know that," she snapped. "Still I should know what's happening. It's not fair that I can just...just...pretend like everything is the same while they're…" She collapsed into herself, burying her face in her arms. She wasn't crying, though. She hadn't done any of that for a few days now, at least not when they were together, and they were almost always together.

Gale shifted closer to her, putting his lips close to her ear. His voice rumbled through her like thunder. "Stop that," he said, low and gruff, an order. "I mean it, Undersee. You're not pretending anything."

"I am," she muttered into her arms. "Coming here, it feels like hiding, like forgetting, and I shouldn't be able to forget, not even for a little bit, not when my friends are...not when they're…" Her shoulders began to shake. Maybe she was crying. Sometimes it was hard to tell with her. Sometimes she cried so silently he didn't notice right away and sometimes she cried so hard that no tears came out, only gasping and keening sounds, like a wounded animal.

Sometimes, most of the time, he didn't have a clue what to tell her. He didn't know how to make it all go away and he wanted to, for her, and for his own selfish reasons. If anyone was pretending, if anyone let themselves forget, it was him. Delly and Peeta weren't his friends. To him, they were just a couple of townies. He didn't want them to die, but his life wouldn't change without them. Forgetting was easy, too easy, and it was wrong. It was what the Capitol wanted from him, to be grateful that he wasn't the one who'd lost anything this year. He was supposed to look at Madge and think to himself _better her than me, better them than us_ , and sometimes he did think that, and always he was disgusted with himself for it.

Gale sat down on the floor at her feet. "I used to wonder what I'd do," he said, starting slow, letting the words come to him on their own, "if it was Katniss. We made a pact when I turned twelve, you know? If one of us was reaped, the other would take care of their family."

"The Mellarks won't talk to me," said Madge. She shifted her head, so that it rested sideways, her cheek smooshed against her arm. "They won't answer the door. And the Cartwrights…" She couldn't quite bring herself to admit that she'd fled as soon as she heard footsteps inside the house. She had run, and run, and kept going full speed until she washed up at the Hawthorne's. "You would watch, if it was Katniss," she said.

Gale nodded. Yes, he would watch, and doing so would probably destroy him.

"I hate not knowing," she admitted. "All the time, I'm wondering if they're in pain, if they're hungry, or scared, if they've...had to kill. I don't want to remember them like that." Her eyes were pleading again. She was asking him to understand, to give his approval, but it wasn't his place to judge. "I don't want the Capitol to change them. Not in my head. It's the only power I've got, you know, keeping them like they're supposed to be."

Gale rested his head against her leg. Her tights were smooth against his stubbled cheek. She'd taken her shoes off at the door. She always did, even though he told her that she didn't have to. Their floors would always be filthy, covered in coal dust, and someone was always tracking something inside. Never her. She was always so careful not to leave a mark. _If she were reaped_ , he thought, _she wouldn't leave anything behind to remember._

He caught her big toe through her sock and wiggled it, the way he did when he was playing with Posy, pretending to steal her toes. Madge kicked at him weakly. He grabbed her foot, trapping it, his fingers pressing into the soft underside of her arch. She had such small feet, smaller than his hands. Her white socks were ruffled at the top like a little girl's.

"We're watching, all of us." he said, kneading her foot absentmindedly. "You don't have to." He didn't tell her that Delly had partnered up with the little girl from District 11 and they'd taken refuge in a cave from a lightning storm, undoubtedly a creation of the Gamemakers. He didn't tell her that Peeta had been stung by tracker jackers in an attempt to draw the Careers after himself, rather than Delly, and that he'd buried himself, using river mud to paint his face, make himself look like a boulder. He didn't tell her that Peeta was alone, suffering, delirious, or that the Careers were circling nearby, enraged and bloodthirsty, eager to take him out.

Gale didn't want her to know any of it. She didn't deserve this pain. No one did. As the sunlight crept across the kitchen floor, he forgot that he was still holding her foot, and even when he remembered, he didn't let go. He'd hold onto whatever part of her he could grasp for as long as he could.

* * *

Gale was smiling, really smiling, and he had been all morning. He wouldn't tell her where they were going, only that it wasn't far. Madge followed a few feet behind him. She didn't trust his good mood. "What's wrong with you?" she said. Gale spun around, walking backwards to look at her.

"Nothing," he said. "I'm happy. Is that a problem?"

Madge stopped. They were almost to the fence. Clearly he meant to go through the gap and she wasn't sure she wanted to go with him. The sky was smudged with charcoal clouds, it was probably going to rain, and he was being weird.

"You can wait here if you want," said Gale, spinning back around. At the fence, he dropped to his knees, disappearing in the tall grass, and then reappeared on the other side. He looked at her for a second, before slipping into the trees.

Madge tapped her foot, angry that he'd left her there. She waited for him to come back. After a few minutes, when he didn't, she approached the fence. "Gale," she hissed. The woods rustled. "Gale?" She dropped to her belly and wriggled through the hole. The fence raked across her back. She was almost through when the hem of her skirt caught. She rolled over, her legs getting wrapped tight in her twisted skirt, and tried to pull free.

"I could use some help," she said, her voice ringing between the trees. Still nothing. Madge kicked her heels and pummeled her fists against the ground. Gale laughed in the shadows. Moments later, he was crouched over her legs, unwinding her skirt from a curved metal edge. Madge glared at him, she didn't say thank you, but when he walked into the trees again, she didn't hesitate to follow. Being left alone was not an option.

They didn't go far. Gale flung out his arm to stop her at the edge of a clearing. Still smiling, he put his finger to his lips, then tilted back his head to the treetops. Slivers of gray sky were visible through the green. Mist swirled in the air. Summer was almost over and somehow Madge only just now noticed. She didn't know what they were waiting for.

Gale whistled a few notes, then he repeated them. It wasn't long before the mockingjays echoed him. Soon those few notes were everywhere, rippling through the forest, trembling in the air, rising and falling from the mist. Madge couldn't hear anything else. She turned to him and found that he was watching her. She couldn't help smiling back at him. The song he'd given to the mockingjays was such a happy one, so full of hope, surrounding her. She wished it didn't have to end, but like everything else, the song eventually fell apart.

In the silence, her smile began to slip, but before it completely vanished, Gale cupped her cheek in his hand. He leaned forward, his eyes locked on her's, and she quickly looked away. She stepped back, letting his hand fall. When she dared glance up at him again, she was surprised to find him still smiling.

"Don't worry," he said, nonchalant. "It'll happen when it happens."

Madge's mouth popped open in a startled _oh_ shape. Then her jaw clenched. "Really?" she said, brittle and scathing.

"Yup," said Gale.

"You...you…" she spluttered. A bright red flush rose from her chest all the way to her forehead and he just stood there, grinning at her, as if he knew everything there was to know. "You're crazy," she said, throwing her hands in the air.

Then there was no space between them. He moved so fast, his hand spread across the small of her back, pressing her against him, while his other hand stroked her cheek. She couldn't look away this time. Those gray eyes reeled her in. All she could see was gray. The mist seeped through her ears, filled her head, and she didn't close her eyes, even when their lips met. Neither did he. It was just the smallest kiss. She thought she might die.

"Crazy, huh?" said Gale, letting her go. She wanted to slap that stupid grin off his face, so that's exactly what she did.

"Shit, Undersee," he said, leaping back, his hand to his face. He looked more surprised than anything. _Good,_ she thought. She balled her stinging hand into a fist. That's what he deserved.

"You just think you know everything," she snapped. "You've got it all figured out. You're so certain of yourself and no one else matters. You don't care about Peeta, or Delly, or any of the others. You don't care about me."

"Bullshit," said Gale. His hand dropped from his face and she saw the handprint she'd left on his cheek. _Good,_ she thought again, hoping it bruised. "If I didn't care, do you think I'd be spending every waking minute with you, like I don't have a family to take care of, like I wouldn't rather be doing something else than drying your tears?"

Madge went to slap him again. He caught her by the wrist. She half sobbed, half growled at him. For a moment, Gale didn't recognize her. She was rabid, mutated, and he didn't know if he was more afraid of her or for her. "I didn't mean it," he said. Madge jerked away. If she tried to slap him again, he decided he wouldn't stop her, but she tucked both her hands under her armpits. He wouldn't stop her if she ran, either, but she didn't, because where would she go? Even fighting with him was better than being alone with her thoughts.

"Here's what I know," said Gale after a long time. He spoke hesitantly, not at all certain of himself now. "There can be two victors if they're from the same district."

Madge shook her head. She stared hard at her feet. No, he wasn't supposed to talk about the games, not unless…

"Your friends have a chance, both of them."

"No!" she shouted, startling the mockingjays into flight. "You don't know. You don't. You just don't." She couldn't stop saying it, over and over, until Gale cut her off.

"I do know," he said. Whenever they weren't together, he watched, for her. He stayed up all night, watching, and there wasn't a single moment he'd missed. He knew that Delly and Rue had found Peeta. He'd seen Delly kiss breadboy in the caves and knew it was why the Gamemakers changed the rules the very next morning. _The star-crossed lovers from District 12_ , that's what people were calling them. He knew they meant to reunite Rue with Thresh, to give her a fair chance, and then they would hide out until the end. That was their plan and it could work.

"They changed the rules, Madge," he said. "That's never happened before. That's a reason to hope. I thought you should know."

Gale turned away from her. He took a step, then another. Madge felt him moving further away. _Hope_ , she thought, wavering where she stood. If she let herself fall, if she gave way to hope, then the landing would probably shatter her. But if she didn't fall, would she spend the rest of her days teetering on the brink of life, stuck in a half place, afraid of what lay behind and what loomed ahead?

"Gale!" she cried out. He turned back to her and she stopped thinking. She let go. She fell into the gray. The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, raising up to meet his lips. She clung to his shirt, wadding her fingers in the fabric, both of them smiling into the kiss.

When they parted, she placed her hand gently over the matching imprint on his cheek. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Worth it," said Gale. She rolled her eyes, then nestled her face against his chest, her ear pressed to his heart, lulled by the steady beat of it.

"How do you do it?" she said.

Gale rested his chin on the top of her head. "Do what?"

"Know everything."

He sighed, stirring her hair. "I don't. Not even close." His arms tightened around her. She didn't care that he was crushing her. Breathing didn't seem so important anymore.

* * *

Even though they were together often, they rarely had a moment alone with one another. One of the kids was always hanging around the house. Katniss and Prim liked to come to the meadow with them and Gale didn't know how to tell them no. Katniss was his best and oldest friend. It was obvious to him when she was in pain and he couldn't just abandon her, even if she still refused to talk to him about it.

Ever since the woods, however, Gale had been dying for a moment alone with Madge. It was maddening, being with her, not being able to touch her. They hadn't discussed keeping anything a secret. They hadn't actually discussed much at all. Now they were finally alone. Miracle of miracles, his family was out. There was time to talk. Neither of them wanted to begin. It was so much easier just to lay in bed, wedged together in the middle of the sunken mattress.

Gale was on top of the covers, Madge was under them. She bunched the sheets at her nose and inhaled. "You washed your sheets," she said, peering at him suspiciously. "A little eager, don't you think?"

Gale dug his elbow into her ribs, not too hard. She tried to roll away from him. The mattress wouldn't let her. It was like trying to escape a crevasse. "We do the laundry on Sunday," he said catching her against his chest. "Always have. Get over yourself."

Madge wriggled against him, still trying to escape. He knew if she really wanted to go, she'd be half way home by now. "We're not animals," he said, clutching her to him. She was turned away now. The sheet had slipped to her stomach. He kissed her shoulder. "We bathe, too, and we all know how to read. Well, maybe not Rory. You've eaten with us, plenty of times, so you know we don't devour our meat raw, and-"

"Oh, shut up," said Madge. She stopped struggling. "I don't know how I'm going to explain you to them, if they come home."

Gale stiffened. His grip loosened enough for her to flip onto her back. It was a like a light had gone out in his eyes. He looked to the ceiling. "You won't need to," he said, folding his arms over his chest. One second he was drawing her in, the next blocking her out. "This isn't a permanent thing."

Madge sat up. The bedsprings shrieked. "Excuse me?"

Gale closed his eyes. "Just the way of things," he said, casually, not a care in the world. "It's not like we're ever going to get married. Imagine that, you living in the Seam."

"I'm here enough," she said stiffly.

"You're a guest," said Gale. "It's different. You wouldn't last a week for real."

She opened her mouth, unsure what she was going to say, when he suddenly opened his eyes. The light was back, noticeably dimmer. "It's not an insult," he said. "It's a good thing. Your friends will come home and you can go back to your life."

Madge scooted to the edge of the bed. She twisted her hands in her lap, wondering what it meant, his beliefs about her, about them. She wasn't angry. Maybe, subconsciously, she'd thought the exact same thing. "Let's be realistic, then," she said, staring at the sun-struck wall. "If they don't come home, what happens?"

"Guess I'll have to marry you," said Gale.

Madge glared at him over her shoulder. Laughing, he reached for her. She was the most impossible girl he'd ever met. She wanted so much, she was too afraid to ask. He rolled on top of her, pinning her into the mattress hollow.

"It's okay," he said, nudging his knee between her legs. "You can use me, I don't mind." His fingers trailed lightly up and down her side.

"I do," she said, voice trembling. Realizing those words screamed of a marriage vow, she quickly added, "I mind. It's not right. I don't want to…" His hand snuck under her blouse and there was a hitch in her breathing. "...to hurt you."

"I'm not scared of you, Undersee," he said, tracing lazy circles over her hipbone with a calloused thumb. She arched into him and he stopped. His breath tickled her lips. _Kiss me,_ she thought, _stay._ It was wrong.

"I'm your's," said Gale, "only as long as you want me. I won't blame you when it's over, whatever happens. I made my choice."

It was the wrong choice, just as kissing him now would be wrong. He was right. This life wasn't for her. She was using him and the fact that he was aware didn't make it any less wrong.

So be it. She kissed him, viciously. She pulled his hair, harder, and harder, until he flinched on top of her, but he didn't protest. He let her pull, and pinch, and bite, and suddenly she felt sick. She tried to pull away, in earnest this time, but Gale's fingers pressed into her hip.

"It's okay," he said, kissing her softly until she reciprocated, timid now. She made him dizzy. He would stop, if she wanted. He drew back just a little to study her. She was flushed, droopy eyed, lips parted. He kept his eyes on her as he slid his hand under her skirt and she didn't look away, breathing harder the higher his hand went. He paused, fingering the edge of her panties, until she gave the slightest nod, almost imperceptible.

A shock coursed through her entire body when he touched her. "What do you want?" he said, sending shock after shock with just the tip of his finger. _Use me_ , she thought, _help me forget._ Madge gripped his forearm at another ripple of pleasure, a hint, a simple suggestion of what he could give her. Didn't she deserve some happiness? Whatever the cost.

"You," she said.

After that was a blur, the last dream of summer.

* * *

AN: I deleted "Panem on Fire", because I decided to go in a completely different direction with the sequel to "Rules". I'm about 50 pages in, but I don't want to post anything until I'm sure. Sorry y'all. This little story will probably have four longish parts. It's sort of what "Panem on Fire" was going to be. Wanted to give you lovely readers a little something while I work on the big project, just so you know I haven't completely abandoned you! Hope you enjoy. Plenty of smut, and romance, and heart ache. The necessities, you know :)


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